


130 - Postpone

by storiesaboutvan



Category: Catfish and the Bottlemen (Band)
Genre: F/M, Reader-Insert, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 10:53:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17405579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesaboutvan/pseuds/storiesaboutvan
Summary: Filling the prompt “could you write one based off of Postpone? You don’t have to follow it exactly or anything like that, but maybe something along a similar idea”





	130 - Postpone

You were prone to mistakes. It was a mistake to climb the tree in your backyard when you were seven. You'd fallen and broken your leg. Larry heard the screaming from where he and Van were playing in his cubby house next door. They ran as fast as their little kid legs would take them and got your parents. It was a mistake to make friends with a boy named Jimmy when you were in ninth grade. He'd posted shit about you online and the only friends you had left after were Benji, Larry and Van. It was a mistake to stay in high school when they all dropped out. They got happy, you got jaded. It was a mistake to accept a low paying receptionist job when you graduated. It sucked the life out of you and left hardly any time to see your friends. Finally, it was a mistake to date Brodie. Even after the breakup, he'd call all the goddamn time.

Essentially, your life had been one long string of awful decisions that had resulted in a lot of regrets, complete fucking boredom and a deep desire to throw it all in and run away.

…

The guys were back from touring their first album. You'd watched them blow up in the U.K., and then expand their little guitar rock empire across to the U.S. They even got to perform on a few late night talk shows. After dinner with them all, Van walked you home to the apartment you shared with two other people. You laid on your bed with Van, listening to records you used to when you were kids.

"You're not happy, Y/N," Van said.

You rolled over, groaning. "I'm not… sad sad. I'm just… Why did I do this? This is not the life I dreamed of, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. But you did dream of becoming a cat, so I don't know if that one could have come true anyway," he replied, laughing.

"God, I'd make a good cat. Lie around all day eating and sleeping,"

"Said it before. You're welcome to come stay with me and Larry. Come on tour. That's pretty much the same as sleeping an' eatin' all day."

When the touring started to get serious, when they were signed, Van had always made it clear to the label that you were important. You'd been his best friend forever, and if you wanted to be on tour, they would make room for you. You'd never taken the offer, though. It was his thing. Their thing. You really did have good intentions of forging your own path in life. Live the dream. The problem came when there was no distinguishable dream. You weren't really sure what your thing was.

Something smashed in the kitchen. The sound was followed by laughter. You hardly noticed it though.

"They're so loud," Van noted.

"Always are. Used to it by now. I sleep through their fucking drama,"

"Y/N… What are you going to do? Is this really what you want your life to be like? Things aren't… they're not really looking up, you know?"

You looked over at Van. Van, who was never that serious. Van, who never judged people for the way they were living their lives. It was easier to pretend to not to notice that things were bad. You were raised that way; to be thankful for anything, even if that anything wasn't really good enough for you.

"I'll be right,"

"You'll be right… Sure. Well, the offer stands. As soon as you get fed up trying to make everyone here happy, you can come with us. Just, I don't know, Y/N, let it all go and come back and it will be like you never left,"

"Never left?"

"Yeah! The band! You were our official band tea maker and it's just not been the same since you left," he said joking, lighting the mood.

…

You were on your best friend's couch watching Trainspotting. The ‘choose life’ speech was fucking you up again, and you left the room to make tea as it played out. Piper followed you. "Whatcha' doing?" she asked.

"Tea,"

"We've got tea?"

You stopped and looked at her. Her expression was warm, but otherwise unreadable. "Oh,"

"What's wrong? You've been extra fucking vague since the guys left."

You sighed and leant against the counter. "I'm fine,"

"You say that a lot. You know I don't believe you even a little bit. Van don't either. None of them do,"

"Nice to know my friends talk about me behind my back,"

"Y/N, don't be like that. They just worry. You don't owe anything to anyone here. You know that, right? Just… postpone all of this. Tell work there's a family thing, someone needs you or something, and just go," she said.

"Piper, we've been through this. I can't just run away,"

"It's not running away. It's trying to be happy. All work does is gives you another fucking stupid reason to stay here for another year. That's all Brodie was. You were just biding time,"

"Okay. Thank you for the life advice, but I'm fine."

She was right. You did repeat the mantra 'I'm fine' a lot, like you didn't feel a crushing sense of doom. Like you didn't feel it was all starting to fall in on itself. Like you hadn’t lost hope that your luck would change soon, simply because you deserved it to. No. None of that. You were fine.

…

Your phone was ringing; you could hear it from the bath. Dramatically sighing, you got up, wrapped a towel around you, and walked to your bedroom. The apartment was quiet. Everyone had gone out and you were left with a rare moment of solitude.

"Hey," you answered, walking back to the bathroom.

"Y/N. How's it going?" Van asked. There was a lot of noise in the background, and he'd not hear the water move around your body as you got back in the bath.

"Alright,"

"Alright?"

"Yes, Van, alright. How are you? Where are you?"

"We're in New York. I love it here. Pubs are open all the time and there's always something happening. It's class. You should come,"

"Van," you started. He'd been talking to Piper again, probably.

"Brodie can't call you here,"

"He's not my only problem,"

"I know, but none of them can follow you here. Just come, yeah?" You could hear the pleading in his voice. Then, Larry yelling in the background at you, repeating Van's instruction. Just pop over to New York, they were saying.

"Crippling existential fear can follow me anywhere,"

"Y/N. I already booked you a flight, so... see you in a couple days."

When you asked for time off work, they fired you. Apparently there were just hundreds of people looking for such a great opportunity to work in the corporate world, or some shit. Without the income, how would you pay rent? You packed up most of your stuff in case you were kicked out while you were gone, which was highly likely. Your parents expressed discontent with you 'going on holiday,' as they put it. Explaining to them it was basically leave or fall apart entirely was useless; they never understood your friendship with Van and the guys. They didn't understand that every single time your world collapsed, they were the only ones there.

…

"You need anything?" Van whispered in your ear, bending down to where you were curled up on a couch in the green room of the venue. You shook your head a little and made a sleepy sound. He pulled the blanket up around you and kissed your forehead. "Let me know if you do, 'kay?"

You opened your eyes briefly to watch him return to the other side of the room where they were all sitting, drinking after a show. Soon, they'd go out and take photos with the fans that queued for hours to see them. But, in that moment, they were happy with each other's company, and you were content with sleeping on the sidelines. The resident tea maker, clothes washer, and hug giver. Maybe one day you'd return to the real world, to work and relationships and housemates and cities that went to bed at 10 pm. Maybe, but probably not.


End file.
